


Determination of the Sleeping Prince

by Baeowulf, cyanideSweetheart



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Accident, Coma, Hospital, Other, Sad, Why do I do this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5381135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baeowulf/pseuds/Baeowulf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanideSweetheart/pseuds/cyanideSweetheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 years ago, you came up from the underground, not just by yourself, but with a family. The dispersion of the energies of the barrier gave your new brother a chance to live again as the 6 human souls who helped to break it used their power (and a bit of yours) to reforge his own. The two of you were determined to be happy - in those days, everyone was.</p><p>But good things can never last forever.</p><p>Part of an AU I'm making where Asriel made it out of the underground. Will be very sad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Long Sleep

_You’re walking home from school. The afternoon sunlight is warm on your skin, and your brown hair is hot against your head. The breeze carries the scent of flowers - buttercups and lilies, the summer wildflowers that dot the rolling green fields by the hill. Your book is heavy on your head, and his laughter tinkling in your ears._

__

Frisk trudged through the snow up the hill, coughing softly through the neck of their sweater as a beat up old car trundled past, smoke puttering from its exhaust with a collection of sickly gasps. They felt the inviting warmth wafting from the doors of the shops they passed, beckoning them to stroll inside and browse the glimmering ornaments and packaged gifts, on sale for just $9.99. They paid them no heed, making their way through the still of the winter city. The sunlight filtered down through a layer of clouds, and a brisk wind carried the wintry bite of the season - almost nobody was out on this kind of Sunday, and Frisk silently appreciated the opportunity to be alone with their thoughts as their heavy backpack hung limply against their back.

_Your book bounces softly against your head as you run down the hill, somehow miraculously balancing despite your carefree frolic. He runs to catch up with you, laughing, white ears bouncing as he dashes to meet you. “Hey, no fair!” your brother shouts, smile stretching from horn to horn. “You’re supposed to run on ‘go’, not on three!” You simply laugh back at him, and speed up towards the candy-red stop sign at the bottom of the hill._

The grey and white building loomed above Frisk at the top of the hill, dozens of curtained windows lining it’s imposing stature. The only color it had was the bright, dimly glowing red of the cross that hung above the entryway. They sighed, a mittened hand reaching up to rub at their rosy cheeks, hand-knitted wool banishing the numbness that had seeped to the bone. Sniffing loudly and rubbing at their squinting eyes, Frisk yawned and finished the long walk up the steep hill to the hospital, the building seeming to be perched at the top of the world. Slowly, Frisk ambled to the front doors, legs moving with an almost lethargic sluggishness as the mechanical doors whooshed open, a gust of warm, sterile air washing out and banishing the wintry smells of pine, cold, and car exhaust. The elevator on the other end of the room was waiting.

_He’s gaining on you, and you laugh as you tease your brother over your shoulder. “Can’t catch me, you can’t catch me! I’m fastest there is overground or under!” He laughs back as you both pick up your pace, racing in a mad dash down the hill, so close to home you can almost smell the cinnamon-butterscotch pie you both know your mother prepared for the last day of school and the playful cheers of your friends you know would be at the party waiting for you when you crossed the front step. “You think so?” he shouts through his laughter, leaning forward into his run. “It looks like I’m gonna catch you soo- oof!” You both laugh as he trips, rolling on the sidewalk just a bit before coming to a rest in the grass, white fur smudged with chlorophyll and warm earth. Looks like you win again. The stop sign is just ahead._

__

The cup of coffee is warm in Frisks’s hands, mittens stuffed into the pockets of their warm, puffy winter jacket, the front unzipped to reveal the blue and red stripes of their woolen sweater. They smiled a little at the thought, melting snow dripping occasionally from their frozen beanie into their cup. They’d given her such a hard time about bundling up for the cold, but Toriel had insisted that they wear at least four layers, and had tried to sneak in a fifth, but before she could, Frisk had been out the door and waving goodbye, trudging through the snow to the bus stop away from their cozy house in the country. As usual, the only reason Frisk wasn’t an icicle by now was because of Toriel’s fussing. Moms, right? Won’t leave you alone even at 17. Frisk sighed, the smile draining from their face as they squinted into the coffee, blowing a puff of air into the brown liquid and sending ripples across its surface. In truth, they could have taken the bus all the way to the hospital, but they never did. The walk helped them get ready. It had for years.

_“Get up get up or you’ll lose for sure!” you call as you sprint towards the brilliant red hexagon hovering tantalizingly above the black asphalt of the road, arms outstretched like tsundereplane as your feet pat the pavement with ever increasing speed. You hear your brother scrambling to his feet behind you, laughing all the way as he gets up and resumes the chase (he’s a tough kid - you both are, and that is something you are mighty proud of). “Frisk, wait for me, you win!” he concedes, but you’re not stopping now - you’re almost there. “Wait, Frisk, look out!” You hear him shout as your shoe slips on a loose stone by the curb and you stumble flying into the middle of the road._

“Frisk Dreemurr?” called the nurse, startling Frisk out of their drowsy reverie. They nod, getting up and shouldering their backpack as they head towards the door, leaving the waiting room on the fifth floor of the hospital - the intensive care ward. The nurse is a kind woman, her dark features warm and comforting in contrast to the bleary sterile white of the floors and walls. This place so devoid of color… It took all of Frisk’s determination to walk through that door. They thought the weekly visits would get easier over time, but… they never did. If anything, they just got harder. “You alright, honey?” The nurse asks, concerned, looking to Frisk as they walk down the corridor to the room. Frisk just nods, jamming their hands in their pockets yawning slightly as they walk. The nurse shakes her head, sighing. “Not getting enough sleep again, are you?” Nod. “You know, it’s important for young people to get their rest - especially in higher education. You’re the youngest college freshman I know, child, and you know you need to get your rest if you aim to help anyone,” she chastises, staring pointedly at Frisk, hoping for a response. Nod. The nurse sighs, shaking her head. “You ain’t gonna help him by killing yourself, honey - try to get some rest, alright? If you need, I can see if I can’t get you some sleeping pills.” Frisk shakes their head, a quiet voice eking out two words.

“I’m fine.”

_You hit the asphalt with a thud, skidding a couple feet as you tumble into the road, your book flying off your head and clattering to the curb on the far side. You hear Asriel running behind you as you draw up to your hands and knees, your brother stumbling in his haste to help. “Frisk, are you ok?!” He shouts in concern, and you can hear his voice tremble as he sees your bloodied knees and elbows and your torn jeans. “Yeah, I’m fine Asriel!” You shout back, shaking your head to get back to your senses as you look up. Time slows as you see the car rushing towards you, horn blaring for you to get out of the way. Your reflection is almost comical in the fender as the time stops around you, the air perfectly still and quiet in the moment as the car seems to draw closer impossibly slowly, inch by inch. Your heart pounds in your chest. Suddenly, something tackles you and you fly forward with an ‘oof’, hitting the road hard and rolling to the far side. “Frisk, look out!” You hear as your brother tackles you out of harm’s way, his blue eyes wide and budding with tears, dark droplets sprinkling his bright green striped shirt._

__

_Your eyes meet, and then the screeching car sends him flying down the road, flecks of red staining the splayed pages of your book._

Frisk stared into the hospital room from the open door, perfectly still as they watched the near motionless form that lay in the bed. A vase of wilted buttercups sat on the table by the bed, dried petals gathering in a heap around its base. A heart monitor beeps regularly, it’s little red line tracing out his pulse, and the mask strapped over his face artificially helping him breathe as his chest rose and fell beneath the covers. His hands lay by his sides, fur thin and limbs bony from his long sleep, the skin slightly red around where the IV stuck into his wrist. Frisk slowly entered the room, crossing the distance between themself and Asriel Dreemurr in what seemed an impossibly long time, taking a seat in the ever familiar chair next to the hospital bed as they take one of Asriel’s hands in their own, gently patting his stiff knuckles. “You’ve gotten tall, big brother,” they say with a slight smile, breathing slowly becoming irregular. “Just look at you - as soon as you get out of here, you’re going to be the most popular person in school. I’m sure Undyne’ll have you back in shape in no time - she runs the track department now, you know.” Asriel doesn’t respond, his still form laying in the coma he’d been trapped in for five years now. Frisk sits there for a moment, trying to maintain their composure - they were tough. They needed to be tough. Toriel needed them to be tough - Asriel did too. “Oh, I brought you some things,” they say, releasing Asriel’s weak hand and reaching into their backpack, drawing out a few books. “Reconciling Human and Monster History, Basics of Medical Biology, An Introduction to Architecture and Design, Introductory Physics, The Writer’s Handbook, The Complete Artist’s Handbook, and the collector’s edition of the full Harry Potter series - I wasn’t sure what you’d want to study when you woke up, so I brought a bit of everything,” they admit, smiling down at the frail form of their brother. “I’ll… I’ll just put these on your shelf, I guess,” they sigh after a few moments, almost defeatedly. Frisk gets up, walking to the bookshelf in the corner of the room, before… huh. There wasn’t any room anymore - it was too filled with coloring books, young adult novels, junior high school textbooks, high school textbooks, magazines, board games, and now a few college level texts for even a single item more to be placed on it. Frisk frowned, before looking up. “... I’ll just put these on top of your shelves then - you’re tall enough to reach them up there anyways,” they reasoned with a shrug, before climbing on top of the chair to reach. Once the books were placed, Frisk pulled the chair back next to the bed and sat down again, taking Asriel’s hand once more. “You’re going to have such a great time when you wake up, Asriel - I just know it. Everyone’s doing really well, mom and Asg… mom and dad are talking again, even if just a little bit, and, well, I’m in college now! Surprise, I guess. I’m gonna be a doctor - everyone says it’ll take four years to finish my undergrad, but I think I can do it in one. I mean, I need to get you awake before your 21st birthday, after all - you wouldn’t wanna miss that, would you?” No response. Asriel was as quiet as ever, as still as ever, the only indication he was alive the beeping of the machines and the slow, rising and falling of his chest. Well, and the fact that he wasn’t dust - that helped too. Tears budded in Frisk’s eyes, and for a moment, they almost lost their composure, but they wiped them away before they could, sighing heavily and letting their head hang limply from their neck. “... I miss you, big brother. I miss you a lot. We all do. Why couldn’t you let me get hit by the car? I probably would have been okay, I mean, I’m tough, right? I got through the Underground, I can take a little hit and run, no biggy.” Frisk sighed, and for the longest time, just sat there, wondering why, why it was him and not them lying in that bed. He who had already suffered so much, and not them. “I’ll wake you up, bro - I promise, ok? You’re gonna turn 21, and you’re gonna have a drink with mom and Papyrus and Sans and Undyne and Alphys and Mettaton when you do, ok? You’re gonna learn so much stuff, and you’re gonna have such a great time.” Frisk smiled a little, before getting up, holding Asriel’s hand for just a little longer. “Thanks for talking to me again, big brother - sorry I can get a little sappy. I’m going to wake you up, I promise.”

_The sight of your brother lying there in the hospital, clinging onto life against all odds, knowing that he’s fighting hard to stay here and knowing that you’re going to wake him up before he’s been asleep for 10 years…_

__

_…_

__

_…_

__

_…_

__

_It fills you with determination._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Hope you're enjoying the work so far - next chapter is written by my very talented Co Author, cyanideSweetheart! Big thanks to them, and see you all then!


	2. Loss.jpg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look inside Asriel's head.
> 
> Frisk still lives with their mother, of course. They are, after all, still seventeen.

_You are silent as the car slams into your body, and it almost doesn’t hurt. You can feel the force of the impact shatter your ribs, you can taste the blood welling up in your mouth. One, two, three pretty white teeth scatter across the pavement - how beautiful they are, like flower petals in a candy apple pool. You would smile, if you couldn’t feel your bones breaking. You hit the road hard, rolling a dozen feet or more before finally coming to a stop, lungs struggling to suck in as much air as they can, the sick scent of asphalt choking you, stifling, poisoning your last breaths. You see Frisk - that’s funny, why are they crying? You saved them, didn’t you?_

_Why are you crying?_

_You just can’t understand._

_Despite the five years you have spent reliving this moment, you still can’t understand._

Water streamed down Asriel's cheeks as he gazed into the utter void of his mind, dampening his fur in soppy wet streaks towards his chin. As he heard the door of his hospital room close, he choked through his tears, "Don't go... I can hear you! Frisk- Frisk! Don’t go! Please!”

But nobody heard.

He sobbed, a choking sound that existed only in the darkness within his own skull, muffled by his inability to move a single muscle, to even open his eyes or twitch a finger. Silenced by his own body’s refusal to _obey_ him, to respond to his brain’s impulses, he cried for a seeming eternity, his own weeping the only sound filling the emptiness that was his brain, until a sweet, high voice joined his own, a voice too sugary to not be sickening; a familiar voice.

“Boy, it sure is sad that you can’t tell them you’re awake! It’s been, golly, five or six years, hasn’t it? I forget, but Frisk sure doesn’t!” Saccharine venom barbed every word and laced the flower’s sentences with hate, and it smiled with teeth that should not exist in a face that should not exist on a flower that does not, in fact, physically exist anymore.

That, however, did not stop the thing from being an enormous pain in Asriel’s ass. Metaphorically. Metaphysically? He’s not sure. Flowey is a pain, that’s all he knew. This was only made worse by the equally unhappy reality that he couldn’t seem to get rid of him.

Taking Asriel’s silence as a cue to continue, Flowey hummed, tapping his “chin” with a leaf. “I wonder- how long are you going to keep this up? Your will isn’t nearly strong enough to overpower me and my determination enough to wake you up for real, and gosh, I really do hate being stuck in this stalemate! I want to see the outside world just as much as you do, believe me. All you’d have to do would be let me take over, like when we were a flower! I can make it so that none of this ever even really happened! I can reset, and you can live out your gross, happy little life with your _best friend_.” His voice somehow got even higher on the last two words, mockingly pitched as he pressed his leaves together like hands, tilting his head to the side and fluttering his eyelashes for effect, face twisting into a sickening caricature of Frisk’s face.

Silence.

Flowey’s face fell, a disappointed, bitter frown replacing his forced grin, and his leaves and petals drooping. “Tch. Fine. Keep being an idiot, for all I care. You’re just prolonging this torture for the both of us.” A thoughtful look crosses over his face, and then he says, “You know, we’d all be better off if you just turned into dust, already. You and me, we’d be free of this. Frisk, well. Frisk would be free of having to come here and see you all the time, and the burden of studying so hard they probably don’t sleep, just to save little old you.” 

_It’s a really long time, by your- at best- hugely inaccurate measure, before you regain any sort of consciousness. The insides of your own eyelids are the only sight to greet you, and for a moment, panic rushes through you as you realize you can’t move. You can’t open your eyes, you can’t move your toes or fingers; you can’t even regulate your own breathing. You whimper internally, the pitiful sound echoing through your cavernous mind._

_The only response is a grating, faux-kindly voice that you know all too well._

_“Hi! I’m Flowey! You remember me, right?”_

\--- <3 ---

Frisk’s breath condensed in the air as they pulled their scarf down, forming clouds in the air and slightly obscuring their view of the steep flight of stairs before them. Scaling it was as easy as breathing, and at the top, they knocked briskly on the door. A tired, welcome face greeted them a few moments later, a smile brightening Toriel’s expression when she sees her beloved childr- child.

“Ah, Frisk!” The human was enveloped in a warm, squishy embrace and summarily dragged into the house, Toriel giving a happy hum before letting go of her baby. “It’s so good to see you! I wasn’t expecting you so early in the day, child.”

Frisk glances over their shoulder- the sky is dark, and the moon is starting to rise. They frown. Their phone’s clock says it’s 4:30.

They _hate_ winter. They hate winter so, so much.

Toriel, without expecting a reply, lead Frisk by the hand further into the house, closing the door behind them. “I’ve got dinner on the stove- snail stew, your favorite! Seasoned just how you like.”

It’s actually Asriel’s favorite, but Frisk doesn’t mind. Snail does tastes pretty good, after all, and they could always bring Asriel a tupperware of it, for when he wakes up. Hopefully it’s soon. If not, maybe the nurse could eat it. 

They unwound their scarf from around their neck and hung it up, before doing the same with their thick jacket and knit cap (complete with pom-pom). They shuffle into the kitchen, the heat from the magic-fire stove alone driving the remaining chill clean from their bones, raising goosebumps as it went. A tiny smile turned the corners of their mouth upwards, and they smell the stew, wafting steam up to their nose. Delicious, as always. Toriel really was the best cook, on or below the surface.

“Undyne and Alphys should be arriving soon, although I’m never sure exactly when is soon, for them,” Toriel added, a point of her finger spurring the dishes into action, her magic washing them for her. “Whether it’s within the hour or the week…. You know how they are.” She shook her head, sighing affectionately.

Frisk nodded in understanding, patting Toriel’s shoulder. “Soon.” Toriel took it as reassurance, relaxing and smiling wider, eyes combing over Frisk’s admittedly rather haggard appearance. “...Are you getting enough sleep, my child? You have bags under your eyes, and you always seem so tired.” A fuzzy hand cupped Frisk’s cheek, leathery pawpads touching their face with nothing but concern. 

They nod- a lie- and turn away with, “I’m fine, mom.”

They set their pack down at one of the feet of the table, digging through it for something, only to bring out a thick textbook, as tall as Frisk’s arm is wide. It makes contact with the table with a muted thud, startling Toriel, the motherly monster looking at them with even more consternation. She didn’t say anything; she trusted Frisk’s word when they said they were fine, but... it didn’t keep her from worrying. Far from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cyanideSweetheart- me!- wrote most of this chapter, with additions from Baeowolf.  
> I also came up with the title. I'm an awful person. ;P  
> (edit: I was referencing the meme that people made out of loss.jpg, not the actual subject matter of loss.jpg itself)


	3. Dreemurr Dreaming

Frisk was startled out of their unintentional nap next to their bowl of snail stew by the blaring tone of Toriel’s doorbell, the abrasively honking sound blaring “La Cucaracha” all through the house. Frisk sighed, groaning slightly as they pulled themselves to their feet - ever since Uncle Sans came to visit last, the doorbell had been stuck like that…

 

“Hello?” Toriel’s voice is as sweet as the horn music was grating, and Frisk’s eyes start to droop shut again. Must not be too important. Less important than sleep at this juncture, in any case.

 

They were corrected when Undyne kicked down the door. “MERRY CHRISTMAS, TORI! MERRY CHRISTMAS, PUNK!”

 

Augh. There goes sleep. Goodbye, sleep.

 

“U-undyne, that’ll probably cost money to fix…” Alphys muttered as she stepped nervously over the wreckage that used to be the front door, hovering behind her girlfriend, who was absolutely laden with large, festively wrapped presents.

 

“Who cares about money?! It’s Christmas, Alphys, and she’s the queen, she’s got loads of money. Probably. I mean, you do, right?” Undyne looked at Toriel expectantly for confirmation, a glimmer of unsurety and the beginnings of guilt in her eyes. Toriel simply laughed, shaking her head.

 

“It’s fine, girls - it’s wonderful to see you!” she said, quickly and elegantly closing the distance between them, giving each a hug and a peck on the cheek. Alphys embraced Toriel gladly, while Undyne…. well, Undyne’s arms were full. Very full. It was remarkable that Toriel could even reach any part of her face, at this point- and an absolute marvel that the both of them got up the stairs with all of these, let alone without injury.

 

Knowing Undyne, she probably jumped.

 

With a yawn, Frisk shuffled into the living room, rubbing at their bleary eyes. Undyne immediately snapped to glare at them, steam practically puffing from her nostrils as she puffed.

 

“YO PUNK!” The excitable fish shouted, before charging to within an inch of Frisk, the significantly smaller human looking drowsily up at the fish. “Ya know what I’m gonna do, doncha, punk?”

 

Frisk nodded, dreading the inevitable.

 

“THIS!” and with that, Undyne did the unspeakable - give Frisk a kiss on the forehead. “Merry Christmas, kiddo!”

 

Frisk nodded, rolling their eyes behind their lids before smiling and hugging Undyne as best they could. “Merry christmas, Auntie Undyne.” They turned, facing Alphys, before slowly advancing towards Alphys, arms outstretched.

“U-uhh, Frisk, I, oh, I guess that’s happening, ok then,” Alphys stammered as Frisk wrapped her in a hug, smiling.

 

“Merry Christmas, Auntie Alphys.” This is much more expected than Undyne’s little kiss, and yet Alphys was somehow always nervous about this annual event. Frisk thought that it was… odd, because it’s happened every year for the past five or six, but they didn’t mind. As long as she felt okay with hugging them, they were more than fine with the hugs, too.

 

Alphys broke away, adjusting her glasses with a wobbly little smile. “S- so! We got here before Sans and Papyrus, huh? Sweet! M- means I actually, um, did my job right, i- in getting Undyne out the door.” She elbowed Undyne affectionately, her smile growing.

 

Undyne snorted, rolling her eyes and nudging Alphys with her knee in return. “Sans owes me a few dollars, now,” she said. “He and I had a bet that Papyrus and he would get here first- I bet against them, duh, but I was a little worried for a minute, there. There was so much stuff to pack, I didn’t think we’d ever leave in time!” Her eyes roved over the living room and the two in front of her, and she started to ask, “Where’s As….” Her voice dies, and she nods a little. “Right.” Alphys looked infinitely more nervous, but Toriel just gave them both a weary smile and stepped aside to let them in further. No sense in lingering in the doorway, after all.

 

Now there was room, Undyne set down the presents in her arms less than gracefully, a tinkling crash echoing through the living room. “Oh. Oops. Sorry, Tori, guess I need to get you another gift,” she laughed, scratching the back of her head. Toriel laughed as well, and Alphys giggled nervously.

 

“I told you you shouldn’t get anyone anything fragile,” she whispered into Undyne’s ear.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know! I’ll just replace anything that got broken, it’s no big deal.” She mumbled in reply, giving her an uneven smile and a forehead smooch. Alphys blushed and snorted out a laugh in that peculiar way she had, wringing her hands.

 

The rest of the hour was a rush of unpacking and the positioning of presents under the small tree in the corner of the living room- the ceiling wasn’t high enough for a bigger one, but they simply couldn’t neglect to have a Christmas tree. Frisk proposed the idea of a fake one, before the first Christmas they had together, but the idea was shot down collectively; thus, the smaller tree.

 

Frisk slipped away into the kitchen, halfway through sitting down to resume work when they got pulled into an absolutely vicious noogie, bony, scaly knuckles rubbing at their scalp, hard. They yelped, batting at their assailant’s arms, but the grip was fueled by DETERMINATION. “Where d’ya think you’re goin’, PUNK?” Undyne laughed, grinding her knuckles into Frisk’s skull. “You didn’t really think I’d let you miss out on the fun? You’re under arrest! Your crime? Working on a holiday!! Come hang out with us, you neeeeerd!”

 

Her eyes slid over the cover of the book, and her expression softened a little. Her grip, however, remained as ironclad as ever, and she dragged Frisk back into the living room for stew, eggnog, and conversation. She only released Frisk when she got to the couch, dropping them onto the cushions next to Toriel and Alphys, who were having an intense discussion about Mew Mew Kissy Cutie and its sequel. They paused when Frisk was dropped in between them, and Toriel wrapped an arm around their shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of their head. Undyne flopped down on the other side of Alphys, sprawling out over her girlfriend’s lap, a content smile on her face.

 

It took a moment, but eventually, Frisk relaxed, leaning up against her side and sighing softly. Their head came down to rest on Toriel’s shoulder, and although they listened for a while to the conversation that soon resumed around them, it wasn’t long before they fell asleep again, snoring very, very quietly.

 

\---<3---

_You watch in horror as the car slams into his body, time slowing to a snail’s pace as the horrible events unfolded before you. You saw his midsection crumple inwards, his body curling as bones snapped and muscle tore, wreathed in a halo of splintered bits of plastic that hung in the air as a macabre cloud of confetti, the glittery shards mingling with your brother’s teeth and rapidly disintegrating blood. You see his eyes for just a split moment as he flies forward, and you can almost swear you see him mouth the word “why” before he hits the pavement, tumbling into a roll and landing in a crumpled pile of limbs and torn fabric. You reach out, sobs choking your throat as you try in vain to force your voice to call out to your brother, to say something dammit, but no words come._

_Terrified, you watch as he slowly lifts his head to face you, bruised and patches of fur missing, blood streaming from deep wounds all around his face. His broken limbs drag his shattered body towards you and he sobs, crying and whimpering in his pain. “It hurts, Frisk… i-it hurts… why did you leave me, Frisk? Please, d-don’t go, don’t leave me alone again, I don’t want to be alone again, I DON’T WANT TO BE ALONE!”_

 

Frisk woke with a start in their own bed, the lights off and a plate of butterscotch pie on the floor. They tried to shake the nightmare from their mind, but a pleading echo lingered on in their mind:

 

_“Come back, please….”_

 

They shuddered, rubbing their arms and hugging themselves. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream, just a dream, just a dream… At least they didn’t scream in their sleep anymore- it was never any fun when Toriel would check up on them, because they’d never be able to explain in a million years what plagued them. Frisk shivered, trying not to cry as they gripped their shoulders, slowly calming themselves down.

 

No sleep tonight, huh?

In a bleary haze, Frisk pulled themselves out of bed, stumbling to their desk, taking a seat and pulling an old, weathered book from a shelf, the cover stained with faint red splotches and kept shut with a locked strap. Retrieving a pen from their desk drawer, they opened the aged diary to a fresh page, brushing it off with a hand. Sighing, they began to write.

 

_Dear Frisk,_

_You visited him again today. It didn’t matter, as usual - he didn’t wake up. You study harder and harder every day, and still you’re no closer to SAVING him than you were five years ago. Despite all your determination, you’ve gotten nowhere. Not very much fun, is it? Why are you even trying anymore? You’re never going to succeed. You honestly think a silly little thing like a neurosurgeon’s degree will help you save him? You’re wrong. You should just GIVE UP. Silly child. You can’t even reset anymore. You can’t even take his place._

 

Frisk closed the diary slowly, locking it back up and stowing it back on the shelf. Every time they had a dream… a dream like that, at least, it was good to get the bad thoughts out, wherever they came from. Shaking their head, they scooped the plate of pie off their bedroom floor, setting it down on the desk next to them and grabbing their light reading from their pack - A Cursory Introduction to Advanced Neuroscience, the hefty textbook they’d made a little headway with downstairs. It wasn’t for any of their classes next quarter, but they figured next year would go a lot faster if they’d already read all the books ahead of time. Cover to cover. Thrice.

 

Gotta get started while Asriel was still young, right?

 

\--- <3 ---

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a ton of fun writing this with my extremely talented co-author, Cyanide-Sweetheart. Hope everyone likes it, looking forward to putting up more soon!


	4. Arrivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! This chapter includes a link here because I was unable to figure out how to format it with the proper fonts I wanted to use - you can see the original text in the doc it was written in if you want to see the actual fonts used. Thanks, and happy reading!
> 
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pSrgQ2xuNYzKi1hD1TcTsD3iVdJY1Wdh2kBV96xedzk/edit?usp=sharing

Who allowed it to be morning? Frisk did not recall giving the big glowy thing in the sky permission to be above the horizon right now, and as the light streamed in through their window, they glared out at it, scowling in determination. “No,” they muttered, wiping a smear of butterscotch from the corner of their mouth as they fumbled to the blinds, closing them shut tight before wrapping their blanket tighter around their shoulders and plopped exhausted back into their desk chair, slouching over and going back to reading…

 

~~ _**The monster brain has certain notable differences in structural anatomy to the human brain - most notably, given that it is composed of mostly magic rather than water, the aqueous medium in which it is suspended is a charged fluid which can cause certain complications in the operation theatre.** _ ~~

 

Okay... That... wasn’t what letters were supposed to look like. Maybe they should be done reading for now. Frisk yawned, shuffling to their feet in their blanket cocoon and moving slowly back towards their bed… just as they heard a few gentle knocks on their door and the door open.

 

“Good morning, my child,” Toriel said softly as she entered the room, before her eyes settled on Frisk in surprise, blinking a few times. “Oh! My, well, you’re up early!” she said cheerily, motherly smile radiating warmth and love into the room and banishing some of the winter chill as she surveyed the room. “I see you’ve already had your breakfast - did you like it?” Nod. “Good! Good. Everyone’s up downstairs, come down whenever you’re ready, my child. I love you.”

 

Frisk nodded again, smiling. “Love you too, mom.”

 

Once Toriel was out the door, Frisk groaned, plodding to their dresser to pick out some new clothes for the day, maybe mix it up a bit. Ahh, perfect: striped shirt and jeans. A classic. They changed into the clean clothes out of their old striped shirt and jeans, appreciating their new look before opening the door to their room. They stepped out into the hallway, shaking their head as they looked at their surroundings and saw something achingly familiar:

 

Toriel had left a piece of pie outside Asriel’s room again.

 

Frisk sighed, moving towards the stairs with their hands jammed in their pockets, feet tapping rapidly as they more fell than properly walked down the stairs, sleepily trudging into the kitchen. Undyne was busy consuming what looked to be her third plate of eggs and sausage, while Alphys was busy attempting to eat a sunny side up egg on a slice of toast, failing yet again to mimic her cartoons as the egg fell off the toast and burst on her plate. Toriel waved from her spot at the head of the table, cheerily cupping a mug of coffee in her paws. “Welcome, my child - if you would like a more traditional breakfast meal than candy pie, I think Undyne may have left some for you,” she said slyly, one eye fixed on Undyne, the excitable fish lady freezing in her rapid consumption of all the food within her sight, cheeks stuffed and plate held close to her face as she slowly turned to look at Frisk.

 

“Sh’wwy,” she murmured through the food, putting the plate back down and acting civilized once more. Frisk yawned, walking to their seat at the table and serving themselves some eggs with snail gravy, ladeling the thick, creamy sauce all over the eggs, and maybe a biscuit too. Contemplating their food and surreptitiously pulling their phone from their pocket under the table, the human focused on selecting one of their contacts and sending a quick text message, the conversation fading out of their attention.

 

Xmas?

…

Are you sure?

…

Yes!

…

Gosh, I dunno… I haven’t spoken to Tori in an awful long while, kiddo

…

Please? This means a lot to me. I want us all together for Christmas- and I think… I think you need to talk to her.

…

I’ll

I’ll come. Tonight?

…

Yes! Thank you, Asgore.

 

Frisk sighed. They just wanted their family to be happy together- just wanted a happy Christmas with everybody in their family in attendance, and for Asriel to wake up to his parents at least getting along, as they hoped that a talk between the two of them would achieve. Asriel deserved that much, they think. Besides, Frisk hated having to either see Asgore in secret or not at all, and even more to see the big lug so sad because of it.

 

In any case, they would be seeing Asgore soon, so there’s a hell of a bridge to cross when they all come to it.

 

Frisk was snapped out of their thoughts by Toriel’s voice. “My child, who are you texting under the table?” she asked inquisitively, gripping her fork lightly in her hand, poised above a skewered snail. Frisk looked up nervously, blinking a few times.

 

“Oh, it’s nobody,” they answered with a yawn, beginning to eat their proper breakfast in earnest. “Nothing to worry about.” Undyne snickered a little, grinning at Frisk from under a lowered brow.

 

“So, punk… boyfriend, girlfriend, enbyfriend?” she asked with a chuckle. Frisk froze, cheeks turning a little red.

 

Alphys looked at her in shock, eyes wide. “Undyne!” she squeaked in surprise, face flushing a deep orange.

 

“It’s fine, Alphys,” Frisk said with a shrug. “None of the above- I haven’t had time. Too much studying.” For a few moments, awkward silence reigned at the table. It was broken by a sharp and rapid knocking at the door, everyone’s heads turning to look at the makeshift door held in place by duct tape and determination as the knocking modulated from standard tapping into a variety of rhythms and patterns, a muffled voice joining it, speaking with a heavy rhythm that matched those of the strange knocking. Toriel got up from her seat, calling out a “coming!” as she walked to open the door.

 

Opening the door, Toriel revealed the two culprits of the strange knocking: Sans and Papyrus had arrived, the taller of the two dressed in festive attire with a cheap felt santa hat, and the shorter wearing his traditional coat, shorts, and slippers, as well as a gift laden backpack.

 

“hey tori,” Sans said with a grin, looking up at her. She beamed at the two, before wrapping them both in a hug, smiling broadly as she lifted Sans up off the floor, the skeleton blushing light blue as she did.

 

“Sans! Papyrus! It’s so good to see you, welcome, welcome! What was that strange knocking?” she asked, raising a brow as she released the pair.

 

“WHY, WE WERE KNOCKING, OF COURSE, WEREN’T WE BROTHER?” Papyrus said, looking down at Sans with a smile. Sans chuckled, grinning widely.

 

“yeah tori,” he said with a grin, “we were just rapping at your door.” For what seemed like a small eternity, everything was absolutely silent, and everyone was staring at Sans. The wind from outside seemed to die down, and all was still as all eyes slowly focused on the small, grinning skeleton. Finally, Sans broke the silence with a single sentence: “hey, come on guys, no need to get dead quiet.”

 

Frisk snorted, covering their smile with a hand, and Toriel bleated out a guffaw, a grin spreading over her face. Undyne groaned, rolling her eye and returning to her breakfast with a muttered, “It’s too early for frickin’ puns…” Alphys just smiled a little, patting Undyne’s back as she concealed the better part of her amusement. Papyrus, however, slowly began to vibrate, bones rattling before he let out an outraged “NYEH!”

 

“SANS!! OH MY GOD, I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU JUST SAID THAT!” he shouted, teeth clattering in his righteous fury at the pun.

 

And then the house collapsed into laughter for the first time in what seemed a very, very long while.

 

\---<3---

 

It had taken some time for the two brothers to properly settle in, Sans ditching his backpack under the tree, but by lunchtime some semblance of peace had been restored to Toriel’s household, the brothers lounging around the living room with everyone else, Papyrus sipping tea while Sans occasionally took a swig from a bottle of imported ketchup.

 

“so, buddy,” he asked, addressing Frisk. “any updates on your brother?” Frisk sighed, shaking their head and absentmindedly blowing at the yellow petals in their tea.

 

“No. He’s still asleep.”

 

Sans sighed, shaking his head. “well damn. hoped he was just in his room, rifling through five years of unopened gifts.” He chuckled, turning to Toriel. “kid’s gonna have a grand time when he comes home, with a family like you.”

 

Toriel smiled sadly, nodding. “I hope so, Sans. I hope so.”

 

Frisk put their hand on Toriel’s, fingers wrapping around their mother’s and squeezing gently. The room quieted, Alphys fidgeting uncomfortably in Undyne’s lap, the only sound the gentle evening wind lightly battering against the window shutters, winter sleet pattering on the roof. Undyne played with her snowflake-patterned eyepatch, fidgeting, as Papyrus sighed, fingers tapping against his cup.

 

“I’M SURE HE’LL BE BETTER SOON! HE’S A STRONG, GOOD CHILD. ALMOST AS GREAT AS ME - MAYBE MORE!” Undyne snorts softly, resting her chin on top of Alphys’ head, and silence falls again- a more comfortable lull in conversation settling over the room, warm and familiar. Everyone sat, together in the warm quiet, for a long time as the last semblance of day faded from the sky and the sleet slowed to a halt, stars tinkling merrily above in the inky canvas of the night sky like the lights on the tree.

 

The comfortable silence was broken by a hesitant, heavy knocking at the door. The occupants of the room started, all but Frisk turning their heads curiously. Toriel muttered with a frown, “Whoever could that be…?” She got up from her spot on the couch next to Frisk, who was nervously cupping their tea and avoiding eye contact with anything but the floor, to check the door. Sans frowned at Frisk, eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at them, suspicion growing on his brow. Suddenly, his eyes widened in realization, jaw dropping slightly.

 

“aw, no, kid, you didn’t…” he started to say, getting up to intervene, but it was too late. Toriel had already opened the door, revealing the massive, seven foot tall, broad-shouldered figure standing in the doorframe, his horns cresting above his brow, his weary face framed by a blond beard, and one of his paws clutched around a bouquet of yellow flowers. Toriel stood, staring in shock at this ghost from her past, caught between surprise, sorrow, and rage.

 

Asgore lifted his free hand to scratch nervously at the back of his neck, a sad, nervous smile curling across his lips. “Howdy, Tori. It’s been a long time.”

 

 


	5. Eye of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asgore's arrival. Things get.... awkward. Really, really awkward. 
> 
> (Alt title: "Howdy".)

Asgore shifted his knees awkwardly, trying not to occupy the entirety of Toriel’s couch. The room was completely silent, save for the soft sounds of breathing, the shuffling of fabric, and the occasional slurp of someone sipping their drink. Something dripped: plip plip plip, liquid on fabric. Frisk side-eyed Sans, and the skeleton almost looked nervous, like he was trying to take the edge off by drawing attention to the fact that he shouldn’t be drinking anything, because it just goes right through him, but it wasn't funny. Not even to him. 

Frisk tightened their grip on their cocoa mug, leaning back against Asgore’s chest. They put the mug to their lips, but they didn’t take a sip, insead holding it close to their mouth, almost like a shield or an excuse against the unspoken expectation that they- that one of them- would speak. They, like everyone else, didn’t want to be the first to cut the tension with the metaphorical verbal steak knife, and so...

So.

“So.” Alphys was the first to speak, much to everyone’s surprise, and within a second, all eyes were on her, expectant, curious, afraid, weary. She startled a little - she wasn’t expecting _that_ , but she cleared her throat and continued on anyways. How brave of her. It’s impressive for her, really.

“S- so! Um, it’s- it’s r- really ni- nice to see you again, s- sir…?” Almost all the monsters, even Alphys, still had a hard time referring to Asgore informally, despite it having been so long since he was in charge of anything other than a flower shop. He _had_ asked them to just treat him like an ordinary monster, but deference is a hard habit to break.

There was a deep rumble of a hum from Asgore, and a wan smile. His eyes darted nervously from the floor and Frisk’s hair, to Toriel, and then to Alphys. It’s not the first time Frisk had seen him nervous, but to see him so shaken just by being in the house… It was unsettling. This was hardly what they expected. They expected more shouting. Shouting would’ve been easier; they know how to deal with shouting, how to ride a fight out until it burns itself to nothing and amends either are or aren’t made, until all grievances are aired. This was just a festering wound, and it was uncomfortable to admit to themself that they didn’t know quite how to fix it. This is a different kind of waiting.

“It’s nice to see you again, too, Alphys, dear,” he says, after a pause so long that it just made things worse. He had needed a second to find his voice- Toriel still hadn’t found hers since she opened the door. Frisk saw, out of the corner of their eye, Toriel’s hands tighten, clenching around her mug, claws drawing thin, faint scratches in the ceramic. It makes them wince.

 

It occurs to them that maybe this _was_ a bad idea, after all. Guilt follows immediately.

“H- how’s the flower shop?” Alphys is trying so hard. Frisk silently congratulated her on her ability to be less of a coward than they are- so much for determination. 

“Is business going alright? I kn- know th- th- that it’s kind of…” Her eyes flicked to Toriel, who was studiously examining the floor like it held some kind of epiphany on the meaning of life, the universe, and everything (and also how to control her temper). The yellow monster wilted, faltering, but after a moment of hesitation she furrowed her scaly brow and pasted on a clearly forced smile, ploughing on: “B- busy during the holidays, be- because of all the people wanting wreaths and that ki- kind of thing! I c- can’t imagine how you’re… how you’re able to keep up with the demand.” She laughs anxiously, holding her tea in both hands to try and hide her shaking. Undyne couldn’t even look at anything but her, and she looked as impressed as Frisk felt with Alphys’ ability to even try to make conversation. It was a sort of train wreck of awkward that nobody seemed to be able to look away (or escape) from, a picture of awe-inspiring simultaneous courage and discomfort.

The (much) larger monster nodded, a slight dip of his head in confirmation of what Alphys said. He seemed to have brightened a little because of the topic; flowers and gardening were his passion and profession both. “Oh, yes. There’s quite a few customers that come in every day, at least,” he replied, voice soft as his pawpads. “I must confess, I am having trouble keeping up, but you know how it is.” Alphys nodded, her smile maybe not so forced, now, but then.

But then.

The silence resumed, somehow with even greater pressure. Undyne coughed uneasily, putting an arm around Alphys’ shoulders and giving her a slight squeeze as if to say “at least you tried”. Alphys hung her head, frowned, and sipped her tea. Papyrus didn’t seem to know what to do, for once appearing put off by the situation, instead of bulldozing over any tension with his formerly unyielding optimism. He looked to Sans, who just shrugged. He had even less of an idea of what to do than Papyrus did.

Finally, Toriel spoke.

“I believe you and I need to have a talk, Asgore.” 

Frisk could practically see the red in her voice when she said his name, just like they had when Toriel had first mentioned it(in an even less favorable context, no less). They winced. So did Asgore, just less perceptibly; Frisk could feel it in the way that his muscles tensed, as if he, too, had expected shouting, and was anticipating the relative calm of the eye of the storm to be passing any minute now. He set his tea down, and Frisk scooted out of his lap to a near-inaudible mumble of gratitude. The couch creaked as he stood; Toriel scowled at him, and he shuffled sheepishly away from the distraught piece of furniture. She shook her head in exasperation, before gesturing for him to follow her into one of the side rooms: a study space for Frisk. He followed. He did _not_ look like he wanted to.

“OH MY GOD, I DON’T HAVE A PRESENT FOR HIM!” Papyrus blurted out a few moments later, slamming a fist into the carpet. Frisk flinched again, and subsequently hissed softly as still-scalding hot chocolate spilled onto their hand. The rest of the group looked at Papyrus for a long moment, and then Undyne said slowly, “You know what? I don’t, either! Does anyone else???” 

Everyone except for Frisk shook their heads. No one had known, of course, that he would be arriving.

“maybe we should do that, then,” Sans piped up, and there was a general murmur of assent. They all stood up at once, even Frisk, because maybe this isn’t a fight they want to ride out, this time. Coats, scarves, hats, and other clothing articles were gathered and donned, and after a short debate on whose vehicle they would take, the five of them piled into Sans’ car, which Frisk would’ve been hard put to describe as anything other than a “mom car”. A really _fancy_ mom car. It had TV screens. Frisk had fond memories of riding in it to school with Asriel, watching cartoons on hazy mornings, reluctant to get out at the end of each ride to go to something as mundane as school.

It didn’t feel right, being in here without him- there was, after all, a reason Frisk walked everywhere now. The backseat used to feel too big, but with the four passengers and Sans at the wheel, it felt almost too small. Maybe they’ve grown.

 

Their nails dug crescent moons into the pleather arm rest of the passenger’s seat, their jaw clenched so tight it felt like it might crack. Sans looked over at them, but again, didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth like he was _going_ to say something, but instead, he just turned his eyes to the driveway and put the car into reverse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written almost in full by cyanideSweetheart, with editing and input from Baeowulf! Wouldn't have been able to do it without him, tbh.


End file.
